


The Art of Letting Go

by gallifreyslostson



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M, Gen, Genderbending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-01-22 00:16:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1569050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gallifreyslostson/pseuds/gallifreyslostson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben Tyler had spent his life making sure everyone was taken care of, at the cost of his own dreams.  When he meets the Doctor, she offers him another life, one of freedom among the stars.  But she has her own burdens, buried in a dark past.</p><p>Gender swapped Whoniverse, featuring Catherine Tate as the Ninth Doctor and David Tennant as Ben Tyler, her companion.  Billie Piper will be the eventual Tenth Doctor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ben

_5 am_

The alarm clock blared to life, and Ben Tyler opened one eye to stare at it blearily for a moment before reaching out to slap it back into comfortable dormancy.  He sat up slowly, yawning and scratching at his head, before pushing off the covers that had somehow wound around his legs in the night.  Once freed of the bedclothes hindrance, he quickly donned his running gear, stretched for a few minutes, before heading out the door for his obligatory four-mile run.

_6 am_

Ben stood in the shower, chest heaving as it did sometimes when he couldn't quite outrun everything, the losses and responsibilities.  After a moment, he swallowed hard and pulled himself back under control, raising his face to the steaming water again before turning it off and stepping out into the cold bathroom.  He shaved and made his defiant hair somewhat presentable before returning to his bedroom to sort out his pinstriped suit for the day.

_6:30 am_

"Oi, Tom," Ben yelled through a closed door, kicking it as he buttoned the cuffs on his Oxford button down.  "Six thirty a.m., mate.  Up and at 'em!"

"Get stuffed!" a voice growled back.

"Not really my type," Ben said back easily.  "But if I ever change my mind you'll be the first to know.  Til then, you have work."

"Work can get stuffed too," Tom called back, his words punctuated by something hitting the door.

"Well, rent can't," Ben said practically, tying his tie.  "As much as I love our morning banter, I've got my own job to get to.  Please tell me you'll get up."

The door opened and Tom glared up at him.  "You know, you are entirely too coherent and chipper for six thirty in the morning.  In my world, six thirty in the morning wouldn't even exist.  There shouldn't be more than one six thirty in the day."

"I know," Ben said, walking back to the kitchen for coffee.  "You've never really been a fan of reality."

"Absolutely not," Tom said, following him and taking the mug Ben held out.  "I will never give up the fight against such unnatural constraints."

"Yes, well, good luck with that," Ben said, pulling on his jacket and buttoning it before reaching for his coat and satchel.  "Match at the pub?"

"I'll be there," Tom said.  Ben nodded, shrugging into his coat and walking toward the door, Tom's voice calling after him, "Viva la resistance!"

Ben glanced back and held up an arm in solidarity before stepping out the door, hurrying down the stairs to catch his bus.

_10 am_

"You're sure everything is good?" Ben asked, glancing up briefly at the woman bringing in the inventory report, gesturing to his desk.

"I'm sure, Ben," his younger brother said on the phone as the woman dropped the report and left again.

"Passing everything?" Ben asked, picking up the report and glancing at it before throwing it back down on his desk and turning in his chair to look out the window.  "Everything going well with Janet?"

"Yes, I'm passing," Dan said, sounding slightly exasperated.  "And Janet is wonderful as ever, she sends her love.  Honestly, Ben, I'm fine."

"I just—“

"I know," Dan said, sighing.  "I know.  But I'm fine.  Enjoying the last term, passing my classes with flying colors and making love to my beautiful girlfriend.  The apartment is still here, and I'm still eating.  Everything is fine, Ben."

"Suppose I may be slightly overprotective," Ben admitted ruefully.

"Maybe just a bit," Dan said, and Ben rolled his eyes when he heard the smile in his brother's voice.  "I have to let you go, though...unless, of course, you'd prefer I skip class to reassure you a bit more."

"Tosser," Ben said.  "Go.  Succeed."  He paused, then added.  "Love you, Dan."

"You too," Dan said distractedly before clicking off.

Ben sighed and returned the handset to its cradle before turning to the reports.

_Noon_

"And then I said, you're damn right you're going to give me a full refund," Bethany was saying, waving her fork in the air passionately.  "I mean, can you even believe the bloody cheek, saying I'd been 'misusing the product'!"

"Astonishing," Ben said, quirking up an eyebrow.

"I know!"

Ben barely resisted the urge to shake his head as she continued to prattle on.  He hadn't even really been listening, and couldn't have told her what the "product" had been, but he was still fairly certain that where Bethany was concerned, the customer was very rarely right, only loud.  It was moments like this that he wondered why he was still seeing her, other than the fact that she was beautiful and quite charming when she wanted to be.  Partly because he genuinely didn’t want to hurt her, but he suspected that part of it was simply the fact that he just couldn’t work up the energy required for the dramatics his leaving her would undeniably incur.

“So we’ll meet tonight at eight, and then drive together to the party,” Bethany was saying when he pulled himself back to attention.

“Hang on, what party?” he asked, confused.

“Analise’s party,” Bethany said, rolling her eyes.

“Why’s Analise having a party?”

“Why do you need a reason to have a party?” Bethany asked, looking at him blankly.

“I…sorry, no,” he said, shaking his head.  “I’m meeting Tom at the pub to watch the match.”

“Oh, the match,” Bethany said disdainfully, then looked up at him with big eyes and pouting lips.  “Please, Benny?” she went on, and he cringed at the nickname and the wheedling tone.  “I know everyone would love to see you, and it’s just so much more fun when you’re there.”

Fun, in the Oxford dictionary, is defined as enjoyment, amusement, or lighthearted pleasure.

Fun, in Bethany’s personal dictionary, was defined as the ability to drink copious amounts while knowing she’d still have a lift home.

But she was doing the pouting thing, the thing he’d found so adorable when he’d met her a year ago when she’d been stranded without an umbrella.  He watched her for a moment, then sighed, glancing to the side.

“I’ll talk to Tom and try to meet you there, alright?” he said finally, and she giggled and clapped her hands.  “But for right now, I’ve got to get back to work.”

“Of course,” she said with a mock serious frown, and he arched an eyebrow at her even as his lips twitched.  He stood and dropped a few bills on the table to cover their lunch before leaning over to kiss her lightly on the lips and walking swiftly back to the department store.

_Four pm_

“Mister Tyler?” said a shaky voice from the door, and Ben looked up to see his closing manager leaning against the doorframe of his office.

“Kate?” he asked, pulling off his glasses and dropping the paperwork he’d been looking at as he took in her pale and slightly green features.  “You alright?”

“Not really, no,” she said.  “I…I don’t think I can…”

She stopped and ran off, and he darted out of his office in time to hear retching coming from the loo before the door closed.

“Oh…perfect,” he said, turning to the office secretary.  “Have we got anyone else we can call in?”

“Not really,” the secretary said, wincing.  “Sarah’s on vacation, Marjorie RTO’d, and Elton is still on medical leave.”

“Appendicitis, right,” Ben said, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “Who’s here?  Erika?”

“Yeah,” the secretary said.  “Want me to call her up?”

“Please,” Ben said, nodding as Kate staggered out of the loo.  He stepped forward, grasping her upper arm gently as he looked down in her face.  “You alright?  Can you make it home okay?”

“Yeah, think so,” she said unsteadily.  “Harry sent a text that he’d pick me up.”

“Good, alright,” he said.  “Get home, get some rest…call me tomorrow if you’re still feeling poorly, alright?”

“Alright, Mister Tyler,” she said weakly as the lift dinged.  “I’m so sorry.”

“No no no, don’t be sorry,” he said, walking her to the lift Erika was stepping out of.  “Don’t apologize for being ill.  Just get better, alright?”

“You wanted to see me?” Erika asked as the lift doors closed again.

“Yeah, Erika, listen,” he said.  “Obviously Kate’s not going to be able to close tonight.  I know you opened, but is there any way you could stay?”

“I…well, I mean…I’d love to, Mister Tyler…”

“But…” he said, raising his eyebrows.

“My mum’s off with some friends tonight,” Erika said, looking contrite.  “I’ve got no one else to pick up my boys.  I mean, I can call the sitter and see if she could keep them a few extra hours—“

“No, no, it’s alright,” he said quickly, pressing the call button for the lift again.  “No reason for you to stay and pay extra just because I’m in a bind…I’ll stay.  No, you go home to Eddie and Lucas, have some popcorn for me.”

“Will do, Mister Tyler,” she said, grinning brightly at him as the lift dinged open once more.  “Thanks.”

He gave her a lazy salute, then sighed as the doors slid closed, looking up at the ceiling.

“Do you actually have a life outside of this place?” the secretary asked, and he looked down to see her giving him a sympathetic smile.

“Not really sure,” he said.  “To be determined following my next phone call, I suspect,” he added with a wince, anticipating the unhappy reaction he was bound to receive from Bethany.

Sure enough, as soon as he informed Bethany that he would, unfortunately, be unable to attend Analise’s party, she immediately flew off the handle.

“How can you just snub our friends like that, Benjamin?” she demanded.  “This is important!”

“You said yourself that the party wasn’t for anything,” he sputtered.

“That doesn’t mean it’s not important!”

“I’m sorry, clearly a party because it’s _Tuesday_ is of the _utmost_ importance,” he said, losing his patience.  “Obviously more important than a sick girl getting home to bed or a single mum being able to see her kids.”

“You should really take a firmer hand with your employees, Ben,” Bethany said, and he rolled his eyes so hard he was almost certain he saw his own brain.  “I think you just let them slide so you could skirt off to see the match after closing.  Really, I can’t believe how selfish you are.”

“ _Selfish_?” he sputtered, stunned.

“I’m so tired of coming second to your other concerns,” she said, and his mouth dropped open, his brain completely freezing up.  “It’s all about you, isn’t it?  Well, when’s my time, Ben?  Maybe I should find someone a little more willing to invest in me than himself.”

With that, he heard the telltale click of the phone disconnecting, and stared at the handset for a moment before shaking his head and tossing it back into its cradle.

_9 pm_

Ben took one last glance around his office before shrugging into his coat and slinging his satchel over his shoulder before walking out quickly.  He rode the lift down, and reached the doors at the same time as most of the sales girls.  He saw the worried look one of the girls cast outside as the security guard shook the lottery money at her, and stepped forward quickly.

“Don’t worry about it, Andrea,” he said.  “Go catch your bus.  No reason for you to have to walk on your own.”

“Thanks, Mister T!” the girl said gratefully before scurrying out the door.

He grabbed the lottery money and hurried down to the basement, already making plans for where to stop for flowers before heading to Analise’s house and attempting to salvage the night with Bethany, even while a voice in the back of his head was asking why he was bothering.  He pushed the thought away as he knocked on the door of the chief electrician’s office.

“Wilson?” he called when no one answered.  “Wilson, come on, I haven’t got time for this.  Wilson!”

He stopped when he heard a noise down the corridor and turned, peering into the murky distance.

“Wilson?” he called again, walking slowly forward past the fire doors.  “Wilson, really, it’s been a long day, I’m not in the mood to—“

He stopped when he heard the doors behind him slam shut.  He shoved the lottery money in his pocket as he whirled around and darted back to them, trying desperately to get them open.

“C’mon, c’mon,” he muttered, but nothing happened.  He stepped back and looked up at them, trying to figure out what the hell he was going to do now, then turned when he heard a gentle scraping sound behind him.  Several of the dummies were moving toward him, and he edged over to the wall, intent on getting around them to another door further down the corridor.

“Who are you?” he demanded.  “How did you get in here?”  When they failed to answer, he got annoyed, pulling out his phone.  “Listen, I dunno if this is just a prank gone wrong, but if you don’t stop this and leave peacefully, I’ll be forced to call the police.”

Rather than heeding this threat, one of the closest ones lifted an arm, and Ben had to duck to avoid a blow to the head.  Before he’d even had a chance to straighten again, the hand not holding the phone was grasped by another, and he looked down to see a redheaded woman in a deep burgundy leather coat looking at him intently.

“Run,” she said simply, before taking off in front of him, leaving him little choice but to follow if he wanted to keep his arm attached.

They sprinted through the corridors, slamming through fire doors until they came to the lifts.  The woman called the lift and shoved him inside before darting in after him and smashing the button for the ground floor.  One of the mannequin dressed people shoved an arm between the doors as they closed in an effort to halt their progress, but the woman simply tugged on the arm hard a few times until, to Ben’s shock and horror, it came off completely and the doors slid closed.  The woman tossed the arm to Ben, who fumbled with it for a moment, juggling it with the phone he was still holding.

“What the hell was that?” he demanded, staring at the woman.  “You took its arm off!”

“Yeah, I did,” she said, glancing back at him.

“But that’s…that can’t…” he sputtered, staring at her, and then at the door.  “Is this…some sort of…sort prank, or what?”

“Nah,” she said.  “Wish it were.  But no.  Just your average, run of the mill, murdering plastic creatures.  See ‘em all the time.”

“Really?” he asked, not really sure how else to respond.

“No,” she said, drawing out the word a little as she shook her head.

“Listen,” he said, trying to come to grips with the situation and standing a little straighter.  “I dunno who you or…those…people are, but I’m telling you right now, you’re all to vacate this premises.  I won’t hesitate to call the police.”

“Won’t do you any good,” the woman replied calmly.  “But well done, most people would be done in by now.  You can keep you head in a crisis, that’s good.”

He stared at the back of her head for a moment, then shook his own.  “I need to get back down there, find Wilson before they do anything to him.”

“Who’s Wilson?” she asked.

“Chief Electrician.”

“Oh,” the woman said, glancing back at him again as the doors opened.  “Wilson’s dead.”

“Now, listen, that’s not funny,” he said, following her out into the corridor.

“I didn’t say it was funny,” the woman said, still moving.

“Hold on, just…go back,” he said, shaking his head again as he attempted once more to strike out towards sanity.  “Who’re you?  Who’re they?  You said…plastic…people.”

“That’s right,” she said.

“Care to expand on that a little?” he asked sarcastically.

“They're made of plastic,” she said.  “Living plastic creatures. They're being controlled by a relay device in the roof. Which would be a problem if I wasn’t extremely clever and came armed with this,” she added, pulling a beeping device from her coat pocket.  She approached the fire exit, holding the door open for him.  “So! I'm going to go up there and blow them up, risking my life for you and yours.”

“Why?” he asked, again thrown as he walked through the door into the cool night air.

“Because that’s what I do,” she said, giving him a tight smile.  “Time you left.  And don’t tell anyone about this,” she warned.  “If you do…you’ll only get them killed.”

With that, she moved back inside, the door slamming behind her.  Ben stared at it for a moment, genuinely wondering if the world had gone mad, or if it was just him.  Then the door opened again, and the redhead poked her head out.

“I'm the Doctor, by the way,” she said.  “What's your name?”

“Ben.”

“Nice to meet you, Ben,” she said, then held up the beeping device again.  “You might want to run.”

This time, when the door slammed shut, he decided to take the mad woman’s word and legged it.  He had barely gotten across the road when an enormous explosion rocked the street, and he glanced back to see a secondary explosion go off on the top floor of the shop.  He stared at it for a minute before taking off again down the street, intent now on swallowing enough alcohol to either make the whole experience make sense, or erase it from his memory.  After all…he clearly had no job to get up for in the morning now.  He couldn’t help but wonder if the mad redhead had made it out alive.

His head full of these musings, he failed to notice the blue police box tucked away in the alley as he passed.

oOoOo

Back at his flat, Ben wasted no time in shrugging out of his coat and dropping his bag and the arm he was still carrying before he was lurching over to a cupboard for the expensive whiskey he kept squirreled away.  He set a tumbler on the counter and poured a few inches into it, then took a shot from the bottle as he loosened his tie, belatedly realizing he was still wearing his suit jacket.  He took another long pull from the bottle before setting it down to struggle out of his jacket, taking the opportunity to pull off his tie, unbutton the top buttons of his oxford, and roll up his sleeves.  He picked up the tumbler and the bottle, taking a drink as he walked into the living room and collapsed on the sofa.  He turned on the news out of habit as he finished the last of his drink in one swallow, glaring at the empty tumbler and reaching for the bottle again.

He had slowed his gulps to sips when his phone rang a few minutes later, and he stared at it blearily before answering.

“H’lo?”

“Ben!” Dan’s concerned voice shouted through the mobile’s speakers, and Ben pulled the phone away from his ear for a second before replacing it quickly.  “Ben, I saw the news report about Heinriks, are you alright?”

“Fine,” he answered.  “It was after I left.  Just after.  Saw it from the street.”

“What _happened_?” his brother demanded.

Ben hesitated.  “Dunno,” he said finally, hating to lie, but hearing the strange woman’s voice ringing through his head at the same time.  “Probably some…freak accident or something.”

“Are you drunk?” Dan asked suspiciously after a moment.

“I’m sincerely attempting to be,” Ben replied without chagrin.

“Have one on me, mate,” Dan said with a laugh.  “You’re sure you’re okay, though?”

“Reasonably sure, yeah,” Ben said, drawing in a deep breath.  “Seem to have all my appendages, though whether I’ll feel them all in another hour is probably debatable.”

“Yeah, alright,” Dan said with another chuckle.  “I’ll talk to you later then, yeah?”

“Yep.”

“Love you...ya bloody muppet,” Dan said, and Ben smiled a little.

“You too, you daft git,” he replied before ending the call and returning to his drink.

It was less than five minutes later that Tom came barreling into the flat, looking around wildly until he saw Ben.

"Alright?" Ben asked.

" _Alright_?" Tom burst out. "Jesus, Ben. News spot says the building you work at _blew up_ , and you're sitting there, calm as you please--" He stopped, drawing a breath. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Ben assured him. "It happened after I left. After everyone left, as far as I know."

 _Except Wilson_ , he remembered with a guilty wince.

“Alright,” Tom said with a nod.  “Okay.  You sure?”

“Pretty sure,” Ben hazarded, taking another drink.

“Yeah, okay,” Tom said, visibly relaxing, and finally noticing the bottle of whiskey on the coffee table.  “Are you gonna drink all of that?”

“Dunno yet,” said Ben, peering into his glass.  “Might try.  Got nowhere to go tomorrow, right?”

“There is that,” Tom allowed with a smile.  “You gonna be alright if I head back to the pub?  Only I’ve got this bet going--”

“Yeah, fine,” Ben said, waving him off.  Tom continued to look wary, and Ben rolled his eyes.  “Honestly, father dear, I think I can manage to continue to not be blown up.”

“Well if you’re gonna have that attitude, I should think so,” Tom snorted, turning to go.

“Oi, take that thing with you,” Ben added, gesturing at the motionless mannequin arm.  Tom picked it up with a questioning glance.  “I got lonely.”

“Lady Bethany mad at you again?” Tom asked with a smile, and Ben rolled his eyes in answer. “Alright, mate, I’ll be back later.”

Ben nodded and waved as Tom headed for the door, then finished his drink in a large swallow before pouring more, intent on drowning any thoughts of dead electricians, walking dummies, and mad redheads.

 


	2. Waking Up

When his alarm went off the next morning, Ben stared at uncomprehendingly for a moment, hangover nearly blinding him, before he slapped at it in irritation.  He barely remembered stumbling to bed a couple hours before, still wearing his clothes from yesterday.  He managed to maintain verticality long enough to use the loo, swallow a couple paracetamol down with a glass of water, and strip off his shirt and trousers, then dropped back into bed, pulling the covers over his head and returning to the relative peace of seldom achieved sleep.

He was woken again a couple of hours later to the sound of his phone going off.  He ignored it, closing his eyes again when the ringer stopped, but snapping them open again when it immediately started again.  He groaned, throwing the covers off his head as he turned over to grab it, staring blearily at the ID...then groaning again when he saw who it was.

“H’lo, Bethany,” he said, his voice rough.

“Benny, I can’t believe you didn’t call me!” Bethany screeched, and he winced.  “I was worried sick!”

“I thought you were going to find someone to take care of you better,” he replied, sitting up carefully and scrubbing a hand down his face.

“Well, you’ll be able to soon,” she said.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, throwing off his covers and looking around for clothes, settling on a pair of jeans and a Darth Vader t-shirt.

“Well, you, of course,” she said.  “God, when I found out this morning what happened--”

“This morning?” he asked, pausing as he pulled on the jeans.  “Odd, everyone else knew last night.”

“Well, I was at Analise’s party, wasn’t I?” she asked, and he rolled his eyes.

“Right, yeah,” he said, moving the phone to his shoulder as he fastened his jeans and reached for the shirt.  “Party.  Course.”

“Anyway, I think you should sue for compensation,” she continued, not to be rebuffed.

“Compensation for what?” he asked after pulling the shirt over his head.

“Loss of livelihood, emotional distress, I don’t care,” she said.  “Point is, you could get paid a lot of money for staying quiet.”

“Staying quiet about _what_?” he asked, baffled.  “Bethany, nothing happened.”

“Well, something must have been wrong there if the place just blew up,” she said.  “Act like you know something, and they’ll open the vaults for you.”

“Henricks doesn’t have a vault,” he said distractedly as he heard a skittering noise from the hall.

“Figure of speech, Benjamin,” Bethany snapped as he moved toward the bedroom door with a frown and peered out into the hall.  She continued to prattle on as he stepped out of the room and looked down with growing confusion at the nails that should have been holding down the cat flap that the previous tenant had installed.  He approached the door slowly, but jumped back when the cat flap moved.

“Ben, are you listening to me?” Bethany said finally.

“Not really,” he said before he thought.  He cringed the second the words left his mouth.  “I’m sorry, Bethany...let me take you to lunch later, anywhere you want, you can tell me all about it, I swear.  There’s just something I have to take care of right now.”

“Fine,” she said huffily and hung up.

Ben shoved the phone in his pocket while staring at the cat flap, then bent down slowly to crouch in front of it, feeling like an idiot for being so nervous about a cat flap of all things.  He took a breath and reached forward, pushing the flap forward--

And found himself looking at the mad redhead from the night before.

He surged to his feet and wrenched open the door, staring at her.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded.

“What are you doing _there_?” she asked, frowning.

“I live here, thanks,” he said sarcastically.  He thought for a moment, then glanced around outside the door before looking back at her.  “I need to talk to you.”

“Bit busy...guess I could stop for a cuppa though,” she added, when he took her arm and tugged her inside, despite her protests.  He turned again once he’d pulled her into the living room, but had no idea what to say.  He shook his head with an irritated noise.

“I’m still entirely too hungover for this,” he muttered, brushing past her toward the kitchen.  “Tea?  Tea.  Stay,” he added, turning and pointing at her as she looked around the room.

“Yes, sir,” she said meekly, and he narrowed his eyes suspiciously.  Then he shook his head and turned back to the kitchen, readying the kettle and mugs.

“Look, I know you said we shouldn’t go to the police,” he called as he puttered.  He heard some shuffling from the other room, but decided to ignore it.  “Thing is, I’m not going to have a choice.  Manager of the store, I’m going to have...reports, and questions, and I have no idea how to answer them.  Pretty sure that claiming the store was blown up by a random woman in order to save us all from walking shop window dummies won’t fly.”

“It’ll probably get you sectioned,” the woman’s voice came from the other room.  “If that’s what you’re aiming for, feel free--have you got a cat?”

“What?” he asked, confused at the sudden shift in conversation.  He picked up the mugs and moved back in the living room.  “No, the cat flap was left by the previous--what the hell are you doing _now_?” he demanded, finding the woman apparently toying with the arm from the night before, holding it up to her neck and making choking sounds.  “Are you serious?”  He set the mugs down on the coffee table, and moved to tug the arm away from her, saying, “Look, this might not matter much to you, but for me--”

He was cut off when the arm suddenly jumped away from the redhead, spinning in midair before glomming onto his own face.  He stepped back in surprise, falling to the couch as he pulled at it, trying to get it away from his nose and mouth, but it seemed to have molded itself to his features.

“Hold still,” he heard the woman say in an authoritative voice, followed by the buzzing sound of the silver wand thing she’d used before on the elevator.  Then the arm relaxed and was removed from his face, and he gasped for air.

“There we go,” the woman said, smiling brightly.  “I’ve stopped it.  See?”

She tossed him the arm, which was as still as Ben would have expected a plastic arm to be before yesterday.  He turned it over, watching it suspiciously.

“‘Armless?” he asked, affecting a cockney accent and arching a brow.

“Exactly, I like that,” she said.  “Well...cheers.”

He blinked as she stood up and walked to the door.  It took him a second to realize that she really was intending to leave without giving him _any_ sort of explanation about the night before.  He shook himself and darted for the door, chasing her down the stairs.

“Hang on, you can’t just _leave_ ,” he protested, catching up with her in the car park.

“Course I can,” she said.  “Watch me go.”

“No, but...just...hang on,” he said, reaching for her arm and pulling her to a stop.  “Who are you, exactly?  How do you know these things?”

“I told you,” she said.  “I’m the Doctor.”

“The Doctor,” he repeated flatly.

“Hello,” she said, beaming at him and wiggling her fingers a little.

“But Doctor...who, exactly?” he asked.  “The Doctor’s not a name.”

“Oi, it is for me, skinny boy,” she said.  “As if...what was it, Ben?  As if that’s so great.”

“Ben Tyler,” he said.  “And...you know what, forget it, it’s not the point.  What is it with this plastic stuff?  And what’s your stake in all this?  And why are they after me?”

“They’re not,” the Doctor said.

“It was at _my_ flat,” he reminded her.

“Circumstantial,” she said dismissively, waving the arm before turning away again.

“It tried to kill me!”

“Look, you were an accident,” the woman said, turning back to him with an air of annoyance.  “It caught your scent because you were with me.  It was _me_ it was looking for, you just got in the way.”

“Oh, ta,” Ben said sarcastically.  “That makes me feel much better.”

“Glad to hear it,” the Doctor said with a cheerful grin, and began walking away again.

“No, wait,” Ben said, grabbing her arm, but pulling his hand back quickly when she stared down at it coldly.  “Look, I’m sorry, but you’ve got to tell me something.  You said people were in danger, and I can’t just sit back while people I care about might be at risk.”

“Why not?” she asked, looking at him curiously.

Ben stared at her, nonplussed.  “What?”

“Why can’t you sit back and let someone else take care of it?” she asked.  “That’s what you lot do, isn’t it?  You push things off on the police, the lawyers, the politicians, and you go back to your chips and telly, safe in the knowledge that it’s someone else’s problem.”

“Not me,” he said evenly.

“Responsible one, eh?”

“Someone has to be,” he said with a shrug.

“I know the feeling.”  The Doctor gave him a measured look.  “It’s alien.”

“Okay,” Ben said slowly.  “Not talking about foreign interlopers, are you?”

“Not likely.”

“Right.”  He raised his eyes to the sky for a moment, mulling this over, then looked back down at her.  “Right, okay, alien.  Living...plastic...alien.  So...how did you kill it?”

“It was being controlled by a relay signal,” the Doctor said, still watching him curiously.  “I cut off the signal, dead.”

“Right,” he said again.  “So why here?”

“Overthrow the human race and destroy you,” the Doctor said.  “Believe me?”

Ben shook his head slowly.  “Not really.”

“But you’re still listening,” she pointed out.

“Responsible one,” he reminded her.  “So why _you_?  Are you some sort of...authority?”

“Sort of,” she said evasively, then spun on her heel and started away again.

“But who _are_ you?” he asked, following her.

“The responsible one,” she said, turning and walking backward.  Then she stopped, staring at him hard as he likewise came to a halt.  “It’s like I said, everyone passes everything off to the next highest authority, makes it someone else’s problem so they can sleep at night.  But sooner or later, someone’s got to deal with it.  That’s me.  I’m the someone else.  Now do the responsible thing yourself for those people you talked about, and forget about me.  Go home.”

He stopped as she turned again, and he watched her retreating back for a moment before shaking his head and turning back to his flat.  His mind whirred as he thought about what the Doctor had told him, trying to find anything that made sense, and failing miserably.  He’d only made it a few feet when a peculiar sound ripped through the air, accompanied by a gust of wind.  He turned, but it was already dying down, the cause clearly long gone.

Ben shook his head, adding the experience to the list of mysteries surrounding the Doctor.  He took off again with a quicker pace, determined now to find out more about the baffling woman.

oOoOo

Back the flat, he ordered flowers for Bethany, then set to work on researching this Doctor woman, winding his way through strange back corners of the internet filled with conspiracy and lore.  Hours later, he looked up from his laptop screen in confusion at the rapping on the door to the flat.  He glanced at his watch and swore, ripping his specs off his face and dropping them on the desk as he rose hurriedly.  He’d completely forgotten about his lunch date, something he was now sure to hear about.

“Bethany,” he said a little breathlessly as he wrenched the door open.  “I’m really sorry, I-- _Dan_?”

“Nice to see you too, big brother,” the younger Tyler said, clapping a hand on Ben’s arm and moving past him into the flat.  “You didn’t really think you could get blown up and avoid a visit from me, did you?”

“I didn’t get blown up,” Ben said, closing the door and eyeing Dan suspiciously.  “What about your classes?”

“I let my professors know there was a family emergency,” Dan said, burying his hands in his pockets and shrugging.  “I’ve got my assignments, all is well.”  Ben mirrored his posture, slouching and burying his hands in his pockets as he raised an eyebrow and stared at his brother, until Dan sighed and rolled his eyes.  “I just wanted to see for myself you were okay, alright?”

“I told you I was fine,” Ben grumbled, but without much conviction.  “Come here.”

Dan stepped forward and hugged him, tightly enough to give Ben another twinge of guilt for not telling his brother more about what happened.  If something happened to him, Dan would be on his own.

“Yeah, alright, so,” Dan said as he stepped back.  “Now that I’m here and you can’t get rid of me, what’s the plan?”

“Umm...food?” Ben suggested, realizing he hadn’t actually eaten anything yet.  “You’ve got the car, right?”

“Yep,” Dan said, heading to the door again.

“Right, I’ve got to make a stop first,” Ben told him, grabbing his jacket and following his brother out the door.  “And call Bethany.”

“Oh, am I intruding on her plans?” Dan asked without an ounce of apology.  “Tragic.”

“Don’t start,” Ben said, pulling out his phone as they entered the stairwell.  He scrolled to Bethany’s number quickly and put the phone to his ear.  They were just entering the carpark when she picked up.

“How’s my sweet Benny-bear?” she asked in a simpering voice, and he winced, first at the nickname, then at Dan’s smirk when he heard it.  He shot his brother a warning look as he opened the passenger door of the old blue bug he’d given Dan when he went to school.

“Did you get the flowers?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said.  “A little heavy on the baby’s breath, mind, just barely this side of tacky, but the roses are lovely.”

“Glad to hear it,” he said slowly.  “Um, listen, Beth, something’s come up, and I’m not going to be able to take you out today.”

“What came up?” she asked, her voice instantly dropping several degrees.

“Dan came into town,” he explained.  “Sort of a surprise visit.”

“What for?”

“Apparently he wanted to make sure I was alright after the store blew up,” Ben said, narrowing his eyes a little.

“Oh, that,” Bethany said dismissively.  “You’re obviously alright--well, except for the major emotional toll it’s taken on you, an emotional toll they’re sure to pay a high--”

“So listen,” he cut in, trying to avoid another talk about the amazing compensation that she’d gotten from nowhere.  “I’m going to be with him today, but I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“What makes him think that he can just swan in and monopolize your time like that?” Bethany demanded.

“He’s my brother,” Ben said blankly.  “I’m pretty sure that’s in the rules somewhere.”

“The younger brother shall be imbued with all rights relative to swanning in at inopportune moments,” Dan quipped as they pulled out onto the street.  “Valid especially in cases which ruin the day of a complete--”

“Right!” Ben interrupted loudly, squeezing his eyes closed and pinching the bridge of his nose.  “Anyway, point is, I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

“You know, Benjamin, I’ve passed on a lot of offers to stay with you,” Bethany snapped, and he dropped his hand and blinked in confusion.  “I mean, obviously you’re the best looking, and I really had hoped that you’d make more of a success for yourself and our family with your business experience.”

“Our family?” he asked, frowning.

“Well, you know, our _eventual_ family,” she explained in a withering tone.  “But honestly, if you’re not going to put in the effort, if you’re going to continue to be this selfish--”

“You know, Bethany, I’m really starting to wonder if you know what that means,” he said sharply.  “‘Selfish’ isn’t defined as ‘anything that Bethany doesn’t like’.”

“I think it might be time for me to look for happiness elsewhere, Ben,” she said evenly, completely ignoring him.

Ben was quiet for a moment, contemplating the near constant state of apology that he lived in where his relationship was concerned.  That couldn’t be how it was supposed to go, surely.

“You know what, Bethany, I think you might be right,” he said thoughtfully.  “Clearly, this is not working for either of us, and far be it from me to keep you from the happiness you deserve.”

“What?” she asked in a stunned tone.

“Better now than later, when it would tear _our family_ apart,” he added, nodding at the road when Dan turned his head to stare at him.

“Well, I might be willing to--”

“No, I don’t want you to give me any special favors,” Ben interrupted smoothly.  “Really.  Don’t.  Take care, Bethany.”

He pressed the end button and stared at his phone, wondering what exactly he’d just done...and why he didn’t feel worse about it.  Mostly, he just felt tired.

“You alright?” Dan asked after a moment.

“Yeah.”  Ben looked out the window, lifting his hips a little to slide his phone into his pocket before settling again.

“Sooo...did you have somewhere in particular you wanted to go?” Dan asked hesitantly.  “I mean, I’m alright with driving around aimlessly, obviously, only you said you had somewhere you wanted to stop, and I vaguely remember the mention of food.”

“Right,” Ben said, blinking and pushing thoughts of Bethany out of his mind for the moment.  “Going to see a man called Clive.  I was emailing him about...well, just something I’m trying to get more information on.  Told him I’d stop by this afternoon, so we’ll head there first.”

“Doesn’t sound dodgy in the least,” Dan said evenly after Ben rattled off the address.  “You sure you’re alright, mate?  Store blowing up, suddenly breaking it off with your girlfriend--not that I’m too sorry about that last bit, mind.  But it’s not very...you, is it?”

“Being me doesn’t seem to be getting me very far,” Ben pointed out, still staring out the windscreen.  He glanced at Dan and shook his head when he saw the slightly worried frown on his brother’s face.  “I’m fine.  Just having a bad day.”

Ten minutes later, Dan was rolling to a stop outside the address Clive had given Ben, and the two brothers were watching the house warily.

“Sure you don’t want me to come in with you?” Dan asked.  “Could be a nutter.”

“And what would you do if he was?” Ben asked, looking at him curiously.

“No idea,” Dan said without chagrin.

Ben snorted and undid his seatbelt.  “I’ll be fine.  Be back in a tick.”

“Yeah, I’ll have my phone ready to dial 999 if you’re not back in fifteen minutes,” Dan said as Ben stepped out of the car.  Ben leaned down and snapped off a lazy salute before shutting the door and jogging across the street.  He knocked on the door and glanced back at the car, where Dan held up his phone with his finger on the button, and Ben rolled his eyes before turning away as the door opened.

“Oh, ehm, hello,” he said to the small boy watching him curiously.  “I’m looking for Clive?  He gave me this address in an email.”

“Dad!” the boy shouted as he ran back into the house.  “It’s one of your nutters!”

Ben arched a brow and stared after the boy, rethinking his decision suddenly.  Family man, so probably not a _dangerous_ nutter.  Unfortunately, that didn’t actually mean he couldn’t also still be mad as a spoon.  He took a breath and schooled his features as a heavyset man maybe ten years older than himself came to the door.

“Sorry, hello,” the man said, holding out a hand with a smile.  “You must be Ben.  I’m Clive, obviously.”

“I gathered,” Ben said.  “So, um...sorry, would you mind giving a wave to my brother over there?”  He pointed back at the car, where Dan was watching them with narrowed eyes.  “Not sure what he’s been learning in school, but apparently it’s made him wildly afraid you’re going to kill me.”

“Oh, of course,” Clive said, giving Dan a small wave and a cheerful smile.  “No murders!  C’mon, we’re just gonna go ‘round to the back.”

Ben followed him through the unassuming home to the back garden, where Clive motioned him into a little shed.  The older man followed him and turned on the lights, and Ben was immediately overwhelmed by the photos and news clipping covering every surface, even hanging from the ceiling.

“A lot of this stuff's quite sensitive,” Clive said, pushing a few papers aside to pull out a folder.  “I couldn't just send it to you. People might intercept it, if you know what I mean,” he added, and Ben nodded seriously, only to glance back at the door when Clive looked down, wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into.  “If you dig deep enough and keep a lively mind, this Doctor keeps cropping up all over the place. Political diaries, conspiracy theories, even ghost stories. No first name, no last name, just the Doctor. Always The Doctor.” As he spoke, he pulled out different pictures and clippings laying them out in front of Ben.  “The title seems to have been passed down from mother to daughter. It appears to be an inheritance. That's your Doctor there, isn't it?”

“Mhm,” Ben hummed, brows furrowing as he examined the grainy photograph.

“I tracked it down to the Washington public archive just last year,” Clive told him. The online photo's enhanced, but if we look at the original--” He pulled out another picture, showing a crowd with the familiar red hair sticking out, clearly a zoomed out version of the other photo.  “November the 22nd, 1963. The assassination of President Kennedy. You see?”

“Her mother, I suppose,” Ben said slowly.

“Going further back,” Clive went on, pulling out another photo.  “April 1912. This is a photo of the Daniels family of Southampton...and friend. This was taken the day before they were due to sail off for the New World on the Titanic, and for some unknown reason, they cancelled the trip and survived. And here we are, 1883,” he went on, pulling out an aged, hand drawn sketch that was still recognizably the same woman.  “Another Doctor. And look, the same lineage. It's identical. This one washed up on the coast of Sumatra on the very day Krakatoa exploded. The Doctor is a legend woven throughout history. When disaster comes, she's there. She brings the storm in her wake, and she has one constant companion.”

“Who's that?” Ben asked.

Clive looked at him seriously.  “Death.”

Ben looked back down at the photos.  Disasters throughout the ages, and the Doctor, or a relative of hers, at every one.  Some...family duty, passed through matriarchal lines?  But how would they know?  It seemed the more he found out about this Doctor woman, then less he actually understood about her at all.

“If the Doctor's back,” Clive went on in hushed tones.  “If you've seen her, then one thing's for certain. We're all in danger.  And if she's singled you out, if the Doctor's making house calls, then God help you.”

“But who _is_ she?” Ben muttered, staring at the pictures for another moment before looking up at Clive.  “Who do you think she is?”

Clive hesitated, glancing around before leaning in toward Ben and whispering, “I think she's the same woman. I think she's immortal. I think she's an alien from another world.”


End file.
